


Sorry I Kidnapped You

by chocolatechiplague



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Grand Prix winner Yuuri, Humor, Kidnapped, Kidnapping, M/M, Victor doesnt think things through, Victor is not a figure skater in this, Yuuri is a sassy little shit, yuri plisetsky and yakov are mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 08:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10433997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatechiplague/pseuds/chocolatechiplague
Summary: Three time Grand Prix champion Yuuri Katsuki had had morning practice til three pm and had gone to a small cafe for coffee and pastry that Yakov was never to know about. He was planning to just head home, watch bad videos on his laptop, and suffer through a tasteless dinner to follow his healthy diet, making up for the oh so sweet glazed donut. It was on his walk back home that the shitty car came up and the drugged cloth over his mouth.It wasn’t fully hitting him, Yuuri knew, the fact he was kidnapped. His mind hadn’t fully taken it in as it wasn’t like anything he heard it would be like, but maybe he just had a weird capture. In some weird way, Yuuri had always been curious what it would be like to be kidnapped.To be kidnapped by an idiot, was it a blessing or a curse?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Important note: This is a work of fiction. This is not about Stockholm syndrome, there is no form of abuse, sexual harm/assault/non-con/dub-con. Kidnapping in real life is not something to be romanticized, it is harmful, traumatizing, and so very illegal. 
> 
> Victor is an absolute dork who doesn't think things through.
> 
> Unbeta'd, sorry for mistakes. Hope you enjoy.

In some weird way, Yuuri had always been curious what it would be like to be kidnapped. Usually though those thoughts were in the middle of the night, panting into his lonely bedroom. This was different though, it wasn’t some arranged exploration into roleplay; something that Yuuri would never have the guts to do anyways, it was actual kidnapping. He had been drugged with a rag over his mouth, his mind hazy for a few moments, long enough to realize he was being pulled into a . . . well, to put bluntly, a shitty as fuck car. Everything else was a blur. 

“Sorry about this, but I really need your help. You’re perfect for this!” The voice was rich, warm with an almost frightening amount of sexy and chipper despite the situation. Briefly, he wondered what this guy looked like. Would the face match the voice? The blindfold kept him from finding out.

“Oh no, no worries, I’m kidnapped all the time.” 

“You know what the number one cause of early death is? Sarcasm.” 

“Forgive me, natural reaction when tied up and in. . .  is this a warehouse?”

Now that Yuuri’s mind had cleared up from the haze, he could hear how every word between him and his kidnapper had a slight echo. Great, another kink that Yuuri wanted to experiment with now ruined because of this. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot, let’s try again.”

Yuuri listened to the footsteps, the rustle of fabric as he kneeled next to Yuuri and worked the expert knot of the blindfold. It was the feeling of his glasses being slid carefully onto his face that made Yuuri open his eyes. When had he closed them? 

“Better?”

It was a tie between a solid no, he was still tied to a wheeled office chair and a slap of a yes. The guy had no fucking right to be gorgeous. No right at all. That smile was enough to light up the dark, open space that was yes, a warehouse, perfect teeth. Wisps of silvery hair covering one of two deep oceans for eyes. God, Yuuri felt like he could wax poetry about this guy for hours, days, years to come. This really wasn’t fair. 

“It would be better if I were let loose.”

“Nope!” Mister unnamed kidnapper answered, grinning and clapping his hands together. “Sorry, I need to use you first.”

“If this is about money, you can use my phone and call my coach. He’ll pay.” Yakov was a hardass and dickweed half the time, but he cared about Yuuri, not just because he was the greatest figure skater in current day history. 

“Coach?”

The confused look was cute, but also made Yuuri just as confused. 

“You. . . you kidnapped me of all people and. . . don’t know who I am?”

“Am I supposed to?”

Would it be smart to tell him? Though Yuuri’s limited amount of pride in himself couldn’t let go of the fact he was kidnapped just randomly for reasons not related to figure skating. 

“Katsuki Yuuri.”

“Okay, so you got a name. Good for you, I once had a goldfish, what’s that got to do with anything?”

“Oh my god. . . you’re an idiot, you poor poor idiot.”

To be kidnapped by an idiot, was it a blessing or a curse? He may be found quickly because of it, or never found because it seemed the stupid criminals were the ones who got away the most. 

“I am not! Rude!”

“You don’t even know who I am! I’m the Grand Prix gold medalist and winner three times running. I’ve won Worlds twice.” 

“What’s that for? A sport?”

“Professional competitive figure skating.”

“Sounds gay as fuck.” 

Well, his kidnapper wasn’t wrong there, but Yuuri was offended enough to puff out his cheeks, lower lip pushed out in a pout. And to think, the man called him rude. One thing that Yuuri had figured out though, was that he wasn’t going to get free any time soon, and now, if it was money that the guy was after, he would get oodles and noodles worth to hand Yuuri over, safe and sound. Hell, he was pretty sure that one or twelve fan made fundraisers would come up, raising money to buy his freedom themselves. 

The silence between them would have been awkward, but the way the other guy was looking at him made him squirm and look away, not sure if he felt uncomfortable because he was being stared at by a kidnapper or because said kidnapper was beautiful and staring at him. Why not both?

“So, you hungry?”

Yuuri turned, surprised at the words. He had been there for. . . well, he wasn’t sure how long he was out cold, but he was already being offered food. 

“Uhhhh. . .”

“I know I just kidnapped you, but how about some ice cream? I can unbind you enough to use your hands for a card game? I actually wasn’t fully prepared.” 

What the hell kind of kidnapping was this? 

This was nothing like in the movies, in the news, or even fantasy porn. This was just. . . weird. Not even frightening that he had an unnamed guy that tied him to a chair. The guy was too attractive to be fully afraid of and he just offered him ice cream. Just because this was weird though, didn’t mean he was going to just go through as a willing kidnappee. No, he was going to be a little shit about this. 

“Screw you.” 

“Rude.” Mr. Kidnapper murmured under his breath before he shuffled to his feet. Moving behind the chair, he pushed, the wheels squeaking as Yuuri was pushed to the corner of the room, facing the wall. 

“You face the wall until you decide to be civil.”

“Are you putting me in a fucking time out?”

“Act like a six year old, I’ll treat you like one.”

“You kidnapped me, you piss ant!” Yuuri silently thanked Yuri for the wide vocabulary of insults and curses. Really, the teenager had some brilliant ones. 

“Doesn’t mean you can get away with bad behavior.”

It took more self control than it should have for Yuuri to not respond with ‘what you gonna do? Spank me?’ because it was crossing the line of this disturbing reality into the fantasy kind. He was left with his thoughts though as the tall man left, going to the other side of the warehouse. This was one hell of a thing, one weird situation, and Yuuri wondered how long until Yakov realized that his star skater was actually missing. Most likely a day, or even two, Yuuri had a knack for leaving to have time for himself, convinced that the stress of everyone watching him, expecting perfection from him would actually kill him this time. It never killed him, but it did make his rink mates, family and coach not question if he disappeared for a couple days. 

Well fuck. 

Two hours of silence was a bitch to deal with. 

Or it would have been if his kidnapper didn’t have some kind of crappy pop music playing and Yuuri could hear it. 

“Ariana Grande is NOT crappy! How dare you! We are no longer speaking!”

“We already weren’t.”

“I can’t hear you!”

“I was kidnapped by a brat.” Yuuri murmured, unsure if this adult version of a child was better or worse than if he had been kidnapped by Yuri instead. Well, there was less threats of being killed via ‘knife shoes’ at least. Though that was an everyday thing already with the teen.

Yuuri had started to nod off when he could smell something cooking. It smelled good, a nice blend of spices, a heat in the air that made his mouth water. Maybe he should have taken up the ice cream offer, it may have just been nothing but cream and sugar, but at least it would be something. He would worry though for a week about how the ice cream settled badly at his waist and thighs. Yuuri always did gain weight easily, ice cream was dangerous to the skaters hard earned figure. 

The sqwauk he gave wasn’t dignified, wasn’t pretty, it sounded like a parrot being strangled if anything as he was pulled from the corner he had grown semi attached to. He was pushed towards a small folding table set out. It was level to his chest, right under where his sternum ended. 

“I’m getting bored, so while we wait for dinner to finish cooking, let’s play goldfish.”

“You want to play a kids card game?”

“Yes, now accept it.” 

Well, he had nothing better to do, and the freedom his wrists got was glorious. The binds that had been around his wrists went to his forearms, another rope going to tie arms against his chest so he couldn’t try and untie himself. The bindings were holding tight but he now had the ability to flap his hands around similar to the doggy paddle when one swims. He felt like what a T-Rex must had felt like, arms against his chest, wiggling his fingers. 

The long, piano worthy fingers of his kidnapper shuffled a deck of worn in, lightly torn up playing cards before dealing. Once satisfied with Yuuri able to hold his hand of cards and could toss them to the center of the table. 

At first, Yuuri was winning, feeling devilish, devious glee in the way the blue eyed man scrunched his nose, having to take more and more cards. At least until Yuuri found himself with one of the last twos. Two of spades to be exact in what card he needed, and it was no where in sight. They were almost at the end of the game, the winning streak that Yuuri had before was gone, their pairs count equal. Where was that fucking other two?! 

“Got any twos?”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve asked me about twos.”

“I wouldn’t have to if I could find that card. Are you sure you’re not cheating and holding out on me?” 

“Such harsh accusations, you wound me. This deck is old, the card may simply be missing, sorry.” 

How was he so casual about this? He had a deck of cards with one missing in a match of goldfish. How. . . . 

“Exactly how broke  **_are_ ** you to not afford a proper set of cards?”

“Broke enough that I don’t have a proper deck of cards, you trying to rub it in?”

For a lone moment, Yuuri felt pity. This man was beyond poor, to the point he didn’t have a full deck of cards, physically and Yuuri was convinced mentally. He was forced to kidnap a random person in hopes of getting some form of ransom, a means to survive. 

But then the moment passed because this fucker kidnapped him of all people and he was still convinced that the two of spades was just being hidden. It was no lie that Yuuri hated to lose at anything, even goldfish. Maybe that’s why he and Mari never played the game together, they both played to win with murder on their minds if need be. Even Phichit was weary of playing video games with him. 

“Great, I was kidnapped and I lost at goldfish, anything else you gonna torture me with?”

“Do you like High School Musical?” 

“You’re a horrible person.”

“Thanks, I try.”

The man gave that dazzling smile that no man of evil should be able to pull off as he stood and left towards what Yuuri was assuming was some makeshift kitchen. Did he live here? Oh my god, was this guy fucking homeless too? But then how did he have such fabulous teeth? No no, maybe it’s some weird thing. 

He returned, removing the cards and placing a candle in the middle of the table. Once lit, Yuuri’s eyes followed the flames slow dance, twisting and turning around the wick as the low, overhead lights turned off, a few small lamps around the place being left on. 

“Saves money.” Was the explanation that Yuuri got. A few moments of clink and clank at the kitcheny area later, a plate was set before the professional skater. Brown eyes closed, letting himself forget for a split second he was in a chilly warehouse with a kidnapper, to take in the aroma of well seasoned, cooked food before opening his eyes and look. Spaghetti and meatballs. Instantly, his mouth let loose the first thing that came to mind. 

“Are you. . . trying to Lady and the Tramp me or something?”

Yuuri got a roll of blue eyes in response.

“Do you think you can handle a fork?”

“I know how to feed myself, tied up or not, thank you very much.” A nice, extra touch of sass at the end. At least until Yuuri spent a good five minutes working on trying a forkful of food, unable to twirl the utensil, and when he settled for just one looped noodle, he couldn’t. Reach. His fucking. Mouth. 

Mr. Kidnapper across the table was a smirking mess, slow, happy bites of meatball and pasta, like this was some kind of dinner and show for him. High life entertainment right here. Bastard. 

“Fine, okay, I give.”

“Sorry, what was that? I could have sworn you insisted you can feed yourself. Are you. . .  asking for help?”

“Were you hugged enough as a child? How are you this much of an asshole?”

“I don’t hear a please in there to help you eat.”

It was torture. No, that was wrong. It wasn’t torture but it was embarrassing beyond words, feeling the tips of his ears flush into a brilliant red. 

“Please, okay? Just. . . please.” 

The grey haired man gave pity because he slid his own plate next to Yuuri’s and scooted his folding chair besides the wheeled office one the skater was bound to. Carefully, he was fed, forced to ignore his own embarrassment because he was not only hungry, but the food was pretty fucking fantastic for simple spaghetti and meatballs. Mr. Kidnapper even helped him to take slow drinks of water, unable to reach the glass to his mouth. He was given a promise he would get straws for him tomorrow. 

“See? I’m not as horrible as you think!”

“You still kidnapped me.”

“When are you going to let that go? I said I’m sorry.”

Yuuri didn’t have a response to that because the guy wouldn’t consider how kidnapping him was fucked up, or at least not out loud. Instead, he focused on what looked like paint stains on the folding table. With the candle light being all he had right now, it was hard to tell, but it looked like blue paint. Was he an artist or something? That stereotypical broke artist, doing anything possible to make it in the cold, cruel world they lived in? A thought came up. 

“Hey, Mr. Kidnapper. I gotta take a piss.” Yuuri went with speaking in a very Yuri Plisetsky manner, his usual attempts at wanting to be polite to everyone, respectful and not say something awkward or embarrassing was gone. He was full of snark, sass, surprisingly good food and a full bladder. He was also full of questions how this would work. 

“Oh, I never thought about that.” The guy hummed out, pressing his finger to his lower lip in deep thought. 

Was he serious? He kidnapped someone and never took into consideration the fact that they would, at some point, need to pee? 

“You keep trying to tell me that you’re not a moron, but you prove over and over again you are.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll get through this. Let’s make a game plan. So, I’ll untie you enough to stand, and then-”

“You are not holding my dick.”

“. . . Plan B!”

“What’s plan B?”

“B as in bedpan.”

“I will sooner chew my legs off and crawl myself to a port-a-potty. What’s plan C?”

The man had moved towards him, amusement on his face but also the expression one got when they figured out a plan. 

“Alright, so what we’re going to do is, I’m going to wheel you into the bathroom, untie you enough for you to pee, arms still bound though and feet tied, but you can take care of everything yourself. If you try anything, you’ll get the bedpan. Deal?”

Yuuri didn’t think that it was really much of a deal, but it was better than having this guy touching his dick(though if the situation were different, something in a better setting like his bedroom after a proper meeting, he would be into it), and it was infinitely better than the bedpan. He nodded, letting the guy push the chair to a sectioned off part of the warehouse, flicking a light on and working on the ropes around him, holding him to the chair. They were carefully set to the chair, the shorter pieces around his ankles completely so he couldn’t get out if he tried. Yuuri never had been good about undoing knots, much to his dismay right now. 

Mr. Kidnapper was true to his word though, he let Yuuri waddle hop into the bathroom alone, closing the door to a small crack, able to hear and keep close, but no chance to lock the door and keep him out. The bathroom was surprisingly decent, a full bathroom with what he assumed was a working shower. It was. . . the most alone time he actually had since being kidnapped. Being put into the corner didn’t count as the man was still there, could feel eyes on him. Now though, he was able to think. Why was it that the human mind always took in a days events the most when on the toilet, in the shower, or right on the cusp of sleep? 

He took his time, mind slowly going over the events before the kidnapping. He had had morning practice til three pm and had gone to a small cafe for coffee and pastry that Yakov was never to know about. He was planning to just head home, watch bad videos on his laptop, and suffer through a tasteless dinner to follow his healthy diet, making up for the oh so sweet glazed donut. It was on his walk back home that the shitty car came up and the drugged cloth over his mouth. 

It wasn’t fully hitting him, Yuuri knew, the fact he was kidnapped. His mind hadn’t fully taken it in as it wasn’t like anything he heard it would be like, but maybe he just had a weird capture. 

“Finished?” Yuuri was jolted from his thoughts, giving a shake, clean up, tuck, and hoping to the door awkwardly. 

“Yeah.” 

“Alright. On the chair.”

Yuuri complied, the long day, the insane practice today to go over his new routine and perfect the quad flip was making him less snippy right now. Thinking and peeing had calmed his mind for now. Honestly, he was tired. 

“I’ll get you a toothbrush tomorrow when I go out, but you’ll just have to have fuzzy fur teeth tonight. Sorry.”

“You’re the weirdest kidnapper, you know that?”

A smile slipped on the mans face, finishing with the retying to the chair. “Yeah, I’m told I do most things weird. It comes from my life of work, I assume.”

“Uh huh, right.”

After another round of cards where the extra two was removed from the deck, the candle was blown out, a blanket wrapped around Yuuri and pillow set behind his head, and soon, a sleeping kidnapper on a large mattress on a springbox on the ground. 

As he went in and out of the clutches of sleep, Yuuri thought to himself. 

'Holy crap, I’ve been kidnapped.'

Holy fucking crap, it . . .  wasn’t bothering him that much. 


End file.
